


Breathe In, Breathe Out

by Groot_the_tree



Series: Whumptober 2020 [13]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Awesome Mrs. Hudson, Caring John, Chemicals, Doctor John Watson, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentioned Mycroft Holmes, Parental Mrs. Hudson, Pneumonia, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes and Experiments, Sherlock is a Mess, Sherlock-centric, Sick Sherlock, Sickfic, Whumptober 2020, Worried John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:16:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26990515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Groot_the_tree/pseuds/Groot_the_tree
Summary: No 13. BREATHE IN BREATHE OUT Delayed Drowning | Chemical Pneumonia | Oxygen Mask-Sherlock makes a mistake and gets very sick, John and Mrs. Hudson take care of him.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: Whumptober 2020 [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948387
Comments: 9
Kudos: 101





	Breathe In, Breathe Out

**Author's Note:**

> I did some research for this fic, I will not stand by all of it being accurate, don't take this as the complete truth or use it for diagnostic reasons.

Sherlock knew the moment he had messed up but already it was too late to do anything.

He had been working on an experiment, parts from the morgue, and some dangerous chemicals that Mycroft had gotten him after Sherlock had completed a case for him as they have now entered a system where his brother bribes him to do things. 

Preparing for the experiment, he had been extra careful, making sure he had the right gloves on to protect his hands, a long-sleeve shirt, his goggles. Everything was sorted and he was ready to begin. 

What he hadn’t taken into account was the gases coming off the chemicals that he would inevitably breathe in. 

At the time he didn’t think about it, deciding it would be fine as the strange smells reached him, typically he didn’t need to cover his face and decided this time wouldn’t be any different. 

What was the worst that could happen?

The next day had brought the answer to this question, as soon as he woke up he could feel how warm and sweaty he was, how he was struggling to breathe. He groans and starts to roll over but the groan sends him coughing, hard, his throat burning and making him wince and the pounding in his head wasn’t helping him at all. 

He wasn’t sure he had ever felt worse, it was like his whole body was on fire suddenly, from heat and the burning. He had already decided it was going to be a day where he didn’t make it out of bed at all and, to Sherlock, that was something that never happened, especially when he had an experiment waiting in the kitchen for him to finish. He decides it can wait until tomorrow and, for today, he just needs to rest, that’s all this is, right?

It only took him a few minutes to fall back to sleep, comforted by the idea that he was just tired and his body was trying to tell him to take a day off, it had been a while since he had done that, after all, as the case from Mycroft had lasted a week and then he started on the experiment. Yes, after some more sleep, he would be fine. 

He was decidedly not fine. If anything, he felt worse after his nap, a quick look at his phone told him the nap had lasted three hours and it was now noon.  
As much as he didn’t want to move, his bladder was telling him he needed to, pushing himself up and walking into the bathroom had felt more like running a marathon. Breathing hurt and was far from easy, with each breath it was a struggle not to cough, knowing it would make his head and chest feel worse. 

Finished in the bathroom, he pauses to look in the mirror, leaning against the sink, and can see immediately how bad he looks, pale and sweaty, he looks exhausted, even after twelve hours of sleep. 

It was clear to him this was more than just exhaustion, the flu was the first thing to come to his mind.

He returns to bed, coughing hard as soon as he sat down, no longer able to hold it off any longer as the need only got worse. If he thought earlier that he had never felt worse then he felt like dying when he started coughing and it felt close to impossible to stop. 

A knocking on his bedroom door followed by the sound Mrs. Hudson always gives to let him know she’s there makes him roll his eyes. 

“Sherlock, are you alright?” She calls through the door, “I’ve heard you coughing and thought I would check in, I’ve brought tea and have soup on downstairs for you when you’re ready for it. 

Sherlock pushes himself up against the head of the bed, “Come in.” He calls, barely getting the words out before he’s launched into another coughing fit. 

“Oh,” Mrs. Hudson says, seeing him and bringing the tea over, “Are you okay? It’s just, well, you look dreadful.” She says, reaching out to push the curls off his damp forehead, getting a nod in response as he gets the tea and takes a careful drink. 

“Think I’ve caught something.” He says, voice quiet but a little rough from the coughing he had been doing. 

“Then maybe I could call John for you.” She suggests. 

Sherlock shakes his head “He will be back soon,” He pauses for another sip of the tea, it was seeming to help a little. “I’ll be okay.” 

“Alright, what about that soup then?” She asks, giving him a smile. 

Sherlock nods, knowing well that Mrs. Hudson would keep trying until he agreed to it anyway, it was best to get it over with. And maybe it wouldn’t be the worst idea, he wasn’t sure when the last time he ate was anyway. 

It wasn’t long before she had brought the bowl back and handed it to him, “There’s some more in your fridge if you want more, I’ll be downstairs if you need me.” 

With another nod, she was gone and Sherlock was left to get through about half the bowl of soup before feeling too sick to continue on. He moves it to the side and curls back up on the bed and, once again, fell back to sleep. 

The next time he woke up it was to the feel of a cool hand on his forehead, sighing softly, though it quickly turned into a cough. 

“Jesus, Sherlock, you should have texted or had Mrs. Hudson call.” John.

Slowly, his eyes open and looks up at him, “Hi,” He croaks, his voice raw. 

“I think you need to go to hospital.” 

Sherlock shakes his head, “‘M fine.” 

“Yeah, you look real fine, Sher. You’re burning up, sweating, coughing,” He pauses, his hand going to his pulse, “Fast, trouble breathing. Yeah, this is the last time I’m going to suggest it, Sherlock, hospital. And what were the chemicals Mycroft got for you?” John asks, moving off the bed, his hands going out and helping the other man up as he gets fresh clothes for him and helps him change. 

Sherlock lets the other help, feeling he wouldn’t be able to do it himself, “Barium, chlorine,” He begins to list off, pausing to cough before continuing on, “Pulmonary agents, few of them.” 

John sighs, “Was your face covered?” He asks, getting a shake of the head from the other man who was now fully leaning on him. “Of course, it wasn’t. Come on.” He says once the other was dressed. His arm goes around Sherlock to make sure he was standing up and moving.  
It was a slow journey down the stairs and to the street where John gets Sherlock into Mrs. Hudson’s car before getting in as well. It had been decided this was an emergency, after all. 

The ride seems to take forever, especially after Sherlock, just through another coughing fit, lowers his hand only to, quietly ask, “Is this blood?” 

The answer was yes and John started to drive just a little faster. 

Eventually, they reach Barts and John brings Sherlock in, sitting him down as he runs to the check-in desk and explains the situation and what he thought was happening.

Needless to say, it didn’t take long for them to come out and get him, taking him back for testing as John waited in the room they were going to bring him back to once they were done. 

It seemed to take hours but it wasn’t any longer than one before they were bringing him back in and telling John they were quite sure his theory was correct, especially with the chemicals the other had been working with before. 

John nods, looking down at Sherlock and sighing, at least the man was getting oxygen now and not struggling as much to breathe as he had been the whole way here. 

He was vaguely listening to the whole doctor talk, ‘You brought him in at a good time, We caught it early. Blah blah blah,’ John knew the talk, it wasn’t that important, but he nods along anyway. 

Once the doctor leaves, John leans over and presses a kiss to Sherlock’s forehead, seeing the man’s eyes open a little, clearly having just been asleep or close to it. 

Sherlock gives him a small smile, “Least ‘m not contagious.” He mumbles. 

John laughs, “Yeah, but we’re getting rid of those chemicals as soon as we can so no one else gets this.” He informs the other. “And don’t think I’m not going to have a talk with your brother about not getting you more chemicals that can cause you to get this sick.” 

“Don’t tell Myc,” He tries, though it was a weak attempt. 

“Sher, he already knows, you know he does. I’m convinced he knows about it every time either of us makes a trip to the toilet, he’s definitely going to know about a trip to the hospital.”

Sherlock sighs softly before giving a few more coughs, “Yeah, you’re right.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are nice.


End file.
